Trifecta
by 8belles
Summary: Bones and Booth travel to Louisville KY, shortly after the Derby, to investigate the mysterious death of a jockey.


"Trifecta"

Cool pre-dawn air blew across the paddock area and across the "backside" as it was called, where the horses were housed during the racing season. The horses stamped their feet impatiently in their stalls, nickering softly, trying to attract attention. They fussed partly because it was dawn and their stomachs were rumbling for their morning ration of grain and perhaps a mint from a kind groom. The other reason was that something was amiss in the barn and their keen non-human senses were picking it up. Something wasn't right.

Spring is a marvelous season in Kentucky. The delicate pink and white dog woods resplendent in bloom, soft sweet scent of honey locust trees wafting in the breeze. The 134 Derby has come and gone, so had the vast crowds that accompanied it. The race track had returned to its normal, quiet self.

Afternoons found men and women coming to the track for a little post work happy hours, a few suds, a cocktail and ponies. Occasionally you'd hear someone in the payout window crow the ad tag line," Go baby go!" or a woman would say "Pay the lady! Pay the lady!". It was a time to relax after a long days work with friends in the hallowed halls of the track infused with the perfume of countless cigars and mint juleps. This was about to change though, and not for the luckier.

Bones woke in her home and with a languorous stretch wiled her body to rise. While she was not partial to any day, all being equal, she did find herself not enjoying Mondays. How ridiculous, she chided herself and rolled over the side of the bed. Sitting up, she stuck her feet into her pink bunny slippers, a Christmas gift from Booths son, and trod to the kitchen for breakfast.

As she pulled out her cereal and milk and warmed water for tea, her cell phone chimed. "Brennan.", she said.

"Bones, I got a case I need your help on.", Booth replied. She could hear him shaving over the phone. He must have woken late.

" As usual. What now?", Brennan replied capping the milk.

" It's not in D.C. How do you feel about a road trip to Kentucky?", Booth replied. He must be shaving his neck because his voice was tight. Bones could imagine him trying not to knick himself.

" Where? Appalachia? I've done a bit of work there, undergrad. I love those mountains. ", Tempe sounded intrigued. She enjoyed trips out of the greater DC area from time to time.

"No, Louisville. There's been a body found at Churchill Downs.", Booth replied.

Tempe hesitated for a moment. Booth had a weakness for gambling and a flash of concern ran through her thoughts. " Are you ok with that?", she prodded gently.

"Uh? No problem Bones. I am investigating a murder, not playing the ponies.", Booth replied.

"Ponies? You mean thoroughbreds. Ponies are not used in racing. They are too short.", Tempe interceded.

Booth sighed on the other end, shaking his head though she couldn't see him. " Meet me at Dulles airport in about two hours."

Tempe drove to the airport, passing by the Potomac River planted with the Japanese cherry trees in full bloom. Washington was a beauty in the spring as well, until the heat and humidity set in about mid June and did not relinquish until fall. No wonder the founding fathers had called a summer recess to Congress in the early days. Who could think in the heat and humidity! Of course, Tempe grimaced to herself that is a ruse the modern fat cat politicians used these days to take time off when they could be doing more useful things. Oh, she corrected herself, a politician useful? She gave a small chuckle.

Booth met her at the check in for United, his Pullman suitcase by his side. Tempe joined him for their walk to the security checkpoint. They both received disgusted stares as they went to the head of the line and through a separate area because of their Federal association. "Ah, membership has it's privileges, right Bones?", Booth smiled at her. Brennan smiled back just a bit grateful she didn't have to stand in line with the screaming toddlers and grumpy business men.

Bones brought her latest edition of "American Anthropologist" to read and Booth plugged in his IPod and so together they journeyed to the Thoroughbred capital of America.

Louisville's airport was somewhat provincial compared to other larger cities, but it had a charm about it, Brennan noted as they exited the plane and walked up the hallway with Booth. He was pulling his suitcase with his left hand, the right still not healed up entirely from his recent shooting. " Are we going straight to the crime scene?", Brennan asked as the passed Louisville Slugger, Makers Mark and YUM Brand commercials on the walls of the terminal.

"No, actually. We need to check into our hotel. I think you'll be impressed with the hospitality they have here in Kentucky." Booth leaned in. " And just make sure this doesn't get back to my boss. We can have some fun here too!"

Bones didn't exactly know what to make of that comment except that she was worried about the gambling. Before they left she noted that Caesar's Indiana had a gaming boat less than one hour away.

A car was waiting for them when they exited the airport and took them downtown to the Seelbach hotel, one of the swankiest and oldest hotels in town. Brennan gazed out the window at the architecture of the downtown, once they left the highway and saw its roots and river town charm. Red brick and iron façade buildings lining the street. An early attempt at an urban renaissance, which appeared to be moving on in a positive direction.

The lobby of the hotel was paneled in rich walnut and grey marble. A grand staircase opened to the second floor and murals adorned the ceiling. Every inch a turn of the 20th century luxurious wonder. Gold leaf finished the look of horse country opulence. Booth and Brennan stepped up to the counter to check in. "Good afternoon. How may I help you?" the attendant said.

"Hi, we're here to check in.", Booth handed him his reservation papers.

The clerk looked up, " So Mr. and Mrs. Booth?", he asked.

Bones, who was admiring the lobby's artistic style, coughed suddenly at this. "No, I'm Seeley Booth, this is Dr. Brennan.", Booth blushed and gave the clerk a stern look.

" Oh I am terribly sorry.", he retreated, " But your reservation shows only one room reserved."

"ONE?", Bones intoned?

" Um, yes. I'm sorry. This is what I have reserved for you both.", the clerk looked sheepishly at Bones under her steely gaze.

"There must be a mistake. Can you please give us two rooms?", Booth stepped in.

"Unfortunately this is not possible, sir. We are undergoing a major renovation after Derby and all the available rooms are booked. The reservation shows a room with two twin beds.", the clerk focused his attention on the computer screen so he didn't have to look at Booth, who was growing a dark shadow over his head.

" Are there any other options in the city tonight?", Brennan asked.

" Ma'am I doubt it. The NRA is in town for their annual convention and John McCain is giving a keynote speech. I would say most likely that all the available hotels that you'd care to stay at are booked.", the clerk replied.

" Well Bones, at least you could go shoot something tonight.", Booth chimed in sourly.

"Better watch out it's not you!", she snapped. "Fine. Give us the keys please. Two."

"Yes Ma'am.", the attendant finished the transaction and surrendered two keys.

Brennan took hers and turned for Booth. Booth, forgetting his shoulder pulled his suitcase and hissed in pain. Brennan went to him," Are you alright?"

"Nothing but a flesh wound!" he intoned from Monty Python.

" No, it was not, actually. It was a major wound.", she corrected.

"Never mind, Bones.", Booth replied and pushed the up button for the elevator.

Normally the infield, the grassy area in the center of the track, was a fine green carpet with a few sheds and media buildings. The track would have Family Day with inflatable's, games and rides for the kids as PR stunt in the infield, or host international musical artists for concerts. But on Derby, the infield became a pit of passion, drugs and hedonistic pleasures. Rain or shine, over 10,000 people would cram themselves into that green circle, most never caring if they ever saw a horse or not. After Derby, local charities and high schools come to clean Churchill up. The Downs pays them handsomely and many organizations utilize this as a major fundraiser for their programs. As luck would have it, a group of Girl Scouts were poking about in the back of the infield, nearest to the backside stables when a hand appeared from under a bush. When Louisville Police arrived, it was determined this particular case was out of their capacity.

Booth and Brennan stepped through the immaculately white Main gate at the back of the track. It was slightly past four pm and the afternoon spring sun was still high in the sky, the blessing of being on the western edge of the Eastern time zone. They both stepped into the Paddock area where the names of all the Kentucky Derby winners since Aristides rimmed the walls near the rooflines. In crisp hunter green lettering, 135 winners proclaimed their victory. Names in gold were Triple Crown Winners, and some which garnered national attention; Sir Barton, War Admiral, Whirlaway, Citation, Secretariat, possibly the finest racehorse ever, Seattle Slew and finally Affirmed, the last.

Booth took a deep breath, "Feel the history here Bones? Just that great smell of horseflesh, leather, cigars…ah. I really could like it here."

"Actually horse racing as sport is not that old. The domestication of the horse may actually have been originally for food.", Bones educated Booth. He just rolled his eyes and walked on.

"Agent Booth?", a voice came from the left. It was the manager of the track, Jim Barnes. He extended a hand to Seeley, " Agent Booth, Jim Barnes. Pleased to meet you." His voice had a slightly Southern overtone.

"Mr. Barnes, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffersonian. Can we access the crime scene?", Booth replied introducing Bones.

Jim looked around nervously, "Not so loud. This is not public news yet." People passed casually by. The bugle call the post could be heard for the fourth race of the afternoon.

"I see. Well, may we proceed?", Brennan interjected.

"Of course. Let's take a golf cart. Save time on walking.", Jim replied and escorted them to the cart. Booth gave Brennan shotgun and he took the back seat of the golf cart. The announcer called the horses to the gate.

Through a tunnel under the dirt track they drove to the back corner of the infield, near where 8Belles had met her demise just after the Derby. There was a low hedge of shrubs but no other sign of foul play. Brennan was just happy this was a case that occurred during daylight. It seemed these things always happened at night. The announcers voice rang out after the start bell and a dull rumble was heard. Bones snapped on her examination gloves before the cart stopped moving and hopped off with her toolbox. " I am sure the remains have not been touched?", she asked already concerned that the scene could have been interrupted.

"No, we hustled the Girl Scouts who discovered this away, saying it was a Derby toy or something.", Barnes replied. Like rolling thunder an apparent stampede of horses rounded the corner, dirt flying, hooves pounding just inches from around the rail, which was a scant foot from the crime scene. Brennan cursed, while Booth shielded his head from the track sand kicked up by the pack of horses moving by.

" Have races been going on all day since this discovery?", Brennan asked angrily.

" Well, Sunday there were no races because of cleanup from Saturday. So, only 4 races, plus morning workouts.", Jim looked at the sky trying to recount any action on the track.

" You realize this compromised the crime scene?", Booth said in a low tone.

" Well, we really didn't want this to be a giant fiasco here at the track, given what passed this Derby.", he replied.

" So Booth could arrest you and indict LPD for obstruction of justice and tampering with physical evidence?". Tempe offered.

Jim swallowed hard, "Uh, no. Really that was not our intent. Just good PR that's all." Booth glowered at him.

" I say we get what we can and then start some interviews.", Booth replied just as the tractors prepped the track for the fifth race.

" At first glance, I thought he was a child, but upon further examination, it is a short stature male, roughly 18 to 25 year old. Causasian, but cause of death is still unknown.", Tempe spoke to her cell phone in speaker phone mode in the Coroners Office she had commandeered for her examination." But what I am seeing here is a possible hoof mark of some sort on the sternum. Hodgens, I'm going to swab a sample to you at the Jeffersonian and send a few bits of tissue and surrounding ground. Got that?"

"Yes boss. "Hodgens replied, his normal go-to-it self still not right after Zach's betrayal. "I'll get on that right away."

"Thank you. Stay in touch.", Brennan added gently and hung up.

"So how long has he been dead?", Booth asked walking up with a cup of coffee.

"Accounting for the cool weather, I'd say two weeks.", Brennan replied as she picked over some the bones. Flesh still clung to some of the larger bones.

"So he was dead before the Derby?", Booth queried, slightly disgusted.

" I imagine so. I need to send these samples off to Hodgens tonight and then wrap up here.", she said standing up from the remains and pulling off her gloves.

"Ok, so lets hit the road back to paradise.", Booth said sarcastically.

"It wasn't my fault your department messed up the hotel reservation.", Booth replied breezing past to wash her hands.

After dinner, Booth and Brennan decided to call it a night because they had to go over the list of suspects and start interviews of everyone at the track. Brennan's phone rang as they boarded the elevator to their room. "Dr. Brennan?", it was Hodgens.

"Yes?", Bones replied.

" I have analyzed the dental records you sent me today. We have an ID, a man named Cesar Ramirez. He was a jockey at the track, quite well known . I also found traces of Lasix, which is a common blood thinner in the tissue samples. The bug and particulate work are still coming.", he finished.

"Great, Hodgens. That helps for tomorrow. Have a good night.", Bones replied and hung up. "Poor Hodgens. He seems so lost these days."

Booth looked down at her, " I think we all are." The doors opened to the hallway their room was located.

When they arrived at the door to their shared room, both their hands met automatically at the key slot. Booth pulled his had back and smiled, "Ladies first."

Brennan unlocked the door and stepped inside. The property was owned by Hilton, but still retained its historical character of real wood furniture, and classic décor. Tempe sat on the edge of her twin bed facing the door and to the left, the bathroom where Booth had stepped to hang his jacket in the closet. " Hodgens said the deceased was a jockey… does the name Cesar Ramirez mean anything to you?"

Booth spun quickly, Tempe was always amazed how fast he moved, " Cesar Ramirez!? He's just one of the best young jockeys in the country. He was a real rising star. I wonder who wanted him dead?"

"That's why we're here right?", Tempe kicked off her shoes and settled back against the pillows, clicking on the TV. The local news reported the death of a child found abandoned in the trash. Her heart sank. This is why she has no children.

Booth came back out, shirtless, toweling his face. His gunshot wound was bandaged still and he was examining it in the mirror. "Bones, give me a hand with this over grown band-aide please?" Bones stood up and walked the few steps to where he stood. There was a 4 x4 bandage on his back, the exit wound and the front. Brennan smelled his skin and briefly closed her eyes. " Yipe!", Booth blurted as he pulled off the front band-aide off. Tempe could see over his shoulder how smooth and circular and small the entry was. She knew what the exit would look like, when the vision of blood oozing between her fingers and Booth gasping for air almost overwhelmed her. "Well, you gonna stand there all night or are you going to peel that thing off? Quickly now…" Booth shook her from her memories.

She peeled back a tiny corner and 1, 2, 3 ripped it clean off. The exit wound was much more catastrophic than the entry, as all gun shots are. Small delicate stitches held edges of skin together over about a four inch diameter wound. It was barely oozing blood and plasma from the edges. " Here, smear some of this on that one back there and slap another bandage on it, would you?", Booth asked her handing her some prescription antibiotic cream and a fresh band-aide. She obliged without speaking, working the cream into every nook and cranny of his wound with delicate, tender fingers. If a bullet didn't take him from her, damned if a pathogen would. Booth smeared some on his front and covered it again. There was some peripheral bruising from the wound and it made ghostly yellow/green halos around his shoulder, chest and back. Tempe thought it reminded her of hand painted silk screen.

"Booth, do you ever fear death?", she asked him as he turned around to face her.

He looked sideways at her and sitting on his bed, " Why do you ask?"

" Just the recent events. So much so fast.", Bones replied evenly and sat opposite him not wanting to let on how much she had feared to lose him less than three weeks ago.

" No, I don't fear my death. What I do fear is what will happen to those I love when I die.", he held her gaze for several seconds before continuing, " I fear for Parker, for my family, my… friends." He stood, feeling color rising to his cheeks and grabbed his pajama pants from his suit case before entering the bathroom again to change. Brennan chewed on that for a while and slipped into her nightclothes as well.

" Well, I'm turning in.", Booth said smelling of toothpaste.

"Me too.", Tempe said as she got up to brush her teeth as well. " I guess this room isn't bad after all." Booth smiled where she couldn't see his face. Sure beats sleeping alone, he thought.

The next morning after coming to a truce of who got to use the shower first, Tempe and Booth returned to Churchill Downs. They wanted to speak to anyone and everyone who knew something about Cesar Ramirez. The first was Jim Barnes. "Cesar is the one who's dead?", the expression on his face was of complete shock and color drained from his cheeks.

"Yes, we have a confirmation on the identity of the remains. It's Cesar. How well did you know him?", Booth probed.

" Well, everybody knew him! He was quite the ladies man, undefeated and supposedly the next Pat Day or something like that. He was supposed to ride the Derby favorite- Big Brown on Saturday. He went missing about two or two and a half weeks ago. You'd have to check with his agent, Sam Duncan for an exact date. He was really excited to land that gig though. When he went missing, Michael Iavarone hired Kent Desormeaux. The rest is history.", Jim gushed. Booth and Brennan exchanged glances.

" And where can we find Mr. Duncan?", Brennan asked.

" Probably back in the barns with his other jockeys he reps. Try stable 24.", he replied," Take the cart if you like." Booth took the keys and they hopped on.

The track was not racing, but there was plenty of activity on the back side. Horses were being exercised, grooms were tending tack and equipment, owners catching up on news, jockeys being wooed for races and payouts being negotiated. Brennan and Booth pulled up and parked the cart outside barn 24. They very obviously stuck out as a non-horsey kind of people. In fact, for women being so drawn to horses, there were not many women working on the backside. Brennan attracted a lot of eyes for that reason and the other that she was not dressed for a horse barn in high heels and summer weight classic black wool gabardine.

Booth, with his hunches of human psychology picked up on this and drew himself up next to Booth to send an nonverbal signal. A group of men wearing blue jeans, some cowboy boots and denim coats were talking quietly as they approached. " Excuse me, we're looking for Mr. Sam Duncan." Brennan interjected into their conversation. The men stopped and in a very good ole' boy way appreciated Brennan for a moment before answering.

" I am Sam Duncan. And what may I do for a nice young lady like you?", a mid fifty year old man said with salt and pepper hair. Wrinkles from too many days on horseback weathered his face, but there was smooth bourbon and smoke in his voice. If Cesar was a ladies man, he may have learned it all from his agent! Tempe thought to herself. She took his hand very firmly and shook it.

" I am Dr. Brennan from the Jeffersonian, and this is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. We need to speak to you about Cesar Ramirez.", Tempe said with an iron firmness.

Sam's eyes narrowed, "Did you find that son'oabitch? He owes me a contract on a Derby winning horse! That jackass!"

"No, he's dead Mr. Duncan.", Booth injected.

"Dead? No! How! Where!", Sam sputtered like an angry tea kettle.

Booth placed a hand on Duncan's shoulders and pulled him away from the group he had been previously speaking to," Excuse us." When they were out of ear shot he asked, " So when was the last time you saw Cesar alive?"

" About two weeks ago. He had just signed to ride Big Brown and was out "celebrating". He went from the track to a few bars. I haven't seen him since.", Duncan replied.

" Did he mention any rivals for his position?", Brennan queried.

" Oh sure… every jockey in this place would kill to be him. I mean, he was illegal, straight up from Mexico, but he knew someone and got himself a visa. Once he got racing and getting a reputation on the smaller tracks, I picked him up as a client.", Duncan said his temper fading as he realized how much money he was going to loose over this.

" So every jockey in this place could be a suspect?" Booth said rather incredulously. There may be over 100 riders here. " What about owners, grooms, anyone else who would harbor ill will against him?"

" The owner of the last horse he rode regularly, and won on, didn't care for him as a person, just a rider. That was Walter Murphy. Has a horse here still but will be leaving by Friday. Check Wagners. That's where a lot of people hangout from the track to talk shop.", Sam looked at each of them as if waiting to be excused. Booth handed him a card and told him not to go anywhere soon before they got back on the cart.

As they headed to Wagners, a pharmacy/greasy spoon serving the track and its employees since 1910, Brennan's phone rang. It was the lab, Cam was on the line this time, " Did Hodgens tell you the positive Lasix screen?"

"Yes, he mentioned it. Is he busy?", Brennan offered. The team was feeling the strain of having a member gone and it unbalanced their fine oiled machine.

" Yes, and he wanted me to pass on some information to you. The horseshoe imprint was made with a very particular alloy of metal. It was an aluminum, titanium alloy, which is only used by a very few horses. The imprint is consistent with a racing shoe too. He may have been kicked in the chest?", Cam commented.

"Well, what about the Lasix?", Bones asked.

" Perhaps whomever wanted him dead sauced him up and fed him to the stallions", Cam projected.

" But horses are not carnivorous.", Tempe replied. Booth raised an eyebrow as he listened in. Carnivorous horses, he thought? What are these squints coming up with these days?

" Ok, we'll keep in touch.", Brennan said and hung up. Booth gave her a weird look and Brennan shrugged," Well they don't eat meat!"

At Wagners, the air was heavy with cigarette smoke. It was Louisville law that smoking was not allowed, but the management didn't do anything to repress the other of Kentucky's three sins: tobacco. Tempe's eyes watered and Booth began to make sniffling noises of a running nose. They sat at the counter and looked over the menu for lunch. " I think I'm going to try a hot brown. A little local flavor.", Booth said. Tempe glanced at her menu filled with typical southern cooking: Kentucky Fried.

" I'm going with the house salad myself.", she replied not expecting much. The waitress took their order and they glanced around while waiting for their food.

" How about after we question this person, we take in a bit of the horse action?". Booth asked her, eyebrow raised.

Tempe's red flags popped up in her brain, " Booth, we know that's not wise."

" Oh come on Bones, One race isn't going to hurt. I'll even teach you how to handicap.", he pleaded with her. Their food arrived and Tempe was happy to eat instead of talk of old addictions. The salad was surprisingly good.

Wiping their mouths and settling their bill, Booth asked the waitress if she could point out a Walter Murphy. She inclined her head to the booth in the back of the restaurant where a lone man sat with a newspaper in front of him, the Daily Racing form. Booth thanked her and stood with Brennan. When the approached his voice grated out from behind the paper, " I know why you're here. No, I don't know nuthin about his death." Booth thought, now there's a Marlboro man for ya!

"Sir, we need to speak to you about Cesar Ramirez's relationship to you and your business.", Brennan attempted.

" How about you take yourselves and march your fancy federal butts right outta here and leave me alone.", Murphy replied.

Booth bristled, " Mr. Murphy, we need…" But Murphy shot up from his seat. Despite his rasping voice, he was not an old man and about two inches taller than Booth.

" Look. That illegal never did nothing for me but cause trouble. I'm glad he's dead. Talk to my lawyer!", Murphy stormed out, smashing his shoulder into Booths gunshot wound. Booth doubled over as if he'd been stabbed.

Something metallic had hit him. Brennan grabbed Booth, who was trying to catch his breath while stars swam in front of his face. She felt under his overcoat and it was wet. When she withdrew her hand, blood stained her fingers. Booth sat heavily and sucked air. " What a friendly reception. What did he hit me with?", Booth gasped.

" I don't know, but we're getting you checked out now.", Brennan said and helped Booth stand and called a cab.

At University Hospital, they x rayed him and checked his stitches and deemed the damage minimal. Booth sat, again shirtless in the ER, back resting on the gurney, a heavier gauze compress on his chest. He looked thoughtful. Tempe asked, " What are you thinking about?"

" Just what an ignoramus that guy is. Do you think he's the prime suspect? I got a bad feeling about him.", Booth replied staring at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, fingers laced behind his head. Tempe wanted so badly to rest her head on his chest and hear his heart beat. Too many hospitals in too little time.

" Mr. Booth, you're free to go. Let's get those bandages off and put on something more travel friendly.", the attending nurse said and unwrapped the gauze and tape. Over the existing gunshot wound was a purpling bruise in the shape of a horseshoe. " Were you kicked by a horse?" the nurse said quizzically.

Tempe had a light bulb go on in her head and filed that away for future reference.

"No, but I felt like I was.", Booth replied kindly.

He got his shirt back on, blood stain and all, and as the nurse passed by Brennan, she whispered, " Man, whatta catch!" Bones looked at her crossly and she hurried out.

By now dinner had approached and Booth needed to make a few phone calls back to HQ regarding some search warrants and other documentation and to prevent Murphy from packing his horses and skipping town. Tempe took a few moments to reflect. So maybe Murphy was the guy, but what was his motivation? We had to get that horseshoe from his shirt pocket for testing. What horses did he own? How did Cesar get that hoof print so perfectly on his chest if he was a horseman?

As she came out of her reverie, Booth was hungry. " Lets go to Joes Crab Shack.", he volunteered. She'd never heard of it so agreed. Joes Crab Shack wait staff have a silly habit of dancing on table tops as one of their gimmicks. Shortly after Booth and Brennan were seated and orders taken, a song came on the sound system. I was "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" by the Righteous Brothers. The staff began to move to the table tops and Booth almost jumped out of his skin in excitement. His eyes sparkled. " Bones… you have GOT to dance with me to this song!", he shouted and grabbed her hand before a protest could form in her throat. He hoisted her with his good arm to the top of the table and sang, "You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips…" he mimed a microphone with his weaker side holding her close to him with his left. Swaying, Brennan looked down at the floor from their very unstable perch, afraid they would fall and break their necks. "When I kiss your lips, there's no tenderness like there was before." Bones looked up suddenly and was lip-to lip with Booth. Both of them froze as they realized what they were doing. The record played on, " You've lost that loving feeling…." Their eyes were still open and locked, but not afraid. Tempe began to close hers when Booth pulled back, blushing. The other patrons cheered and clapped. He helped her down, casually waving to the other patrons who were clinking their glasses and chanting for more.

Booth couldn't meet her eyes for a moment as he took his seat across from her at the table just moments ago they had stood upon. Brennan reached across the table and tipped his chin up with a finger. She simply smiled a very easy smile, delighting in how guilty he looked. The finished their dinner quietly watching the barge traffic on the river sail up and down. The Belle of Louisville calliope could be heard, a haunting melody.

They bantered back and forth about who was guilty of the murder and Brennan asked if Murphy could leave, without being questioned. " No, I asked for a search warrant for that horseshoe that he hit me with this afternoon and the police are supposed to be guarding his property at the barn. I have an arrest warrant out for him now. When we get the call, we'll go ask him some questions."

"I'd like to poke around that barn some more tomorrow.", Brennan said," There may be some things that could be of use."

" Ok, that's not a problem.", Booth easily replied as they approached their mutual hotel room. Again, their hands met simultaneously at the lock. Brennan sighed and let Booth get the lock this time.

Inside Booth rolled his shoulders, making a complaint about his shoulder again, and hung up his sport coat. The blood stain was still on his shirt scarlet having faded to a dark ominous red-brown color. "Booth, let me soak that for you.", Tempe said as he was unbuttoning his shirt.

Booth looked at her for a moment, his eyes veiled, " You know Bones, I can do my own laundry."

" I am perfectly aware. Just trying to be helpful.", she said and plucked the shirt from his hands and walked into the bathroom. " I'm not sure this will come out. It looks set." Actually Tempe didn't like the thought of holding a garment of his with his blood dried on it. A shudder ran through her as she looked down at the stain now wetting with water and dab of soap. Suddenly Booths warm hands were on her upper arms, he standing behind her. Her hands went still as the tap water kept running.

Their eyes met in the mirror and for a brilliant moment, Booth thought they looked like such a _good_ couple. For a millisecond he could see _forever_, " You've been upset lately.", he said very quietly.

Brennan looked at his eyes, deep, serious, "Yes.", is all she could manage as a reflexive tightening of her throat closed off any other sounds.

He reached past her to turn the tap off before it overflowed then turned Temperance around to face him. She looked up at him, and then down, his undershirt still blood stained right above that spot. It wasn't his heart that was bleeding, it was hers. Now it was his turn to lift her chin with a finger and ever so gently leaning in, closer, closer and closing his eyes delivered a soft kiss on her lips. She trembled in his hands, shaking with every fiber of her being, so close to him yet so far away.

She pulled away," Booth, I … I can't.", she stammered.

He pulled back only slightly to reply," Why Bones? You won't hurt me."

" No, it's you hurting me.", she quipped too fast, not thinking before speaking.

Now he stood upright completely, looking wounded and slightly angry, " What does that mean?"

Brennan squeezed past him back into the main room and paced to the window. She looked out over the city through the gauzy inner curtain. She felt like a fox in a trap with no way out but to chew off her own foot. "Bones?", Booth came after her but did not approach her so closely this time.

She whirled to face him, pulling the pins out of her hair so it tumbled in soft waves across her shoulders, moisture collecting in her eyes. " Booth, I am so scared for you. You terrify me sometimes. Especially since that night…", she confessed only holding back on the "I love you.", she _wanted _to say but just couldn't bring herself to. Booth looked at her with a slightly exasperated look, but didn't question her. He knew that people in law enforcement had more difficult relationships because their life was constantly in the line of fire. It was just part of his job. It's not like I choose to get shot, he thought to himself.

"Bones, look. I'm like a cat… I have 9 lives.", he tried to be light hearted, but his tone was wrong.

The clouds were now brewing over Brennan's eyes and she took a breath as if to speak but instead approached him, taking his hands. Booth was surprised that she wanted to touch him. She guided them over to the beds, so they could sit face to face. She looked down at the carpet, still holding his hands, and then met his eyes. She knew every curve of his face, every hair on his head by memory. She could even see the skeletal reference points under the skin that Angela could use to reconstruct a face. She turned her head slightly. This was going to hurt, " Booth. We both respect and trust each other."

"Absolutely. I'd never do anything to hurt you or question your professional judgment.", he replied firmly without waver, wondering where this was going. His sixth sense was bugging him he was not going to like what she had to say.

" Then respect me and trust me now when I say I cannot love you the way we both would like. You are my trusted friend. You are my loyal partner. But with death hanging behind you like some specter, I just can't. It would not be fair to either of us." She closed her mouth and looked at him with that crystal clear, scientific, cool reassured mask of an expression she always retreated to when things between them got too complicated.

Seeley felt cold, as if she has just eviscerated him and dumped in a bucketful of ice. His stomach churned, just like his first dumped relationship in high school, except he was an adult now and the love of his life, his partner, the person he was closest to in the whole world had just verbally slapped him. He let her hands drop and sat back away from her, ramrod straight. He retreated his expression behind his military mask of nonchalance, " Ok. I see Bones. You've made this very clear. May I ask one question?" Brennan looked back at him, although looking confident, she didn't trust her voice. " If I wasn't your partner, if I wasn't your friend, would you love me then?"

" I don't know.", Bones replied hesitantly, unsure of what the ramifications of that question were.

The morning came clear and beautiful like the one previous. Booth and Brennan went about their morning routines without a sound to each other. The air was tense between them. Last night was a true revelation. Booth saw on his phone a text message saying that Murphy had voluntarily gone to the police station for a "discussion" so he parted company with Bones, as she returned to the track.

Bones felt only minimal relief when she saw Booth get into a cab heading for the station. As she hailed one for herself and then gazed out the windows, she pondered her actions. Sweets would be smiling his cute little, "Open up to me, I'm your therapist." Smile and she'd slap him. Or at least she thought she would. The track provided a good distraction, as she paid the driver and got out.

Barn 24 was not as active as before but Bones entered the shadows, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She found the Murphy's stalls easily, they were the only ones being guarded by cops. Bones produced her FBI consultant badge and they admitted her to the area. By this time, news had spread about the dead jockey and the involvement of Murphy and his company. The stable regulars stayed out of her way as she looked about.

Tempe was never an equestrian, except for the childhood fantasy that all young girls have to have their own horse. But the smell of fresh hay, saddle soap, grains and leather had a soporific effect on her. It felt so earthy and nice in the barn. She moved over a stall door where Murphy kept his winning stallion. The door was closed and locked but Tempe looked into the dark stall. Suddenly white teeth and a visceral growl rushed out at her. She jumped back wards as the stallion screamed a territorial call and gnashed his teeth. He violently kicked the back of his stall, making the planks creak as if he could break them like matchsticks. Brennan's heart thumped with adrenaline. "Tisk tisk tisk…." a small, soft voice approached from near a stack of hay bales. It was a young girl, maybe 14, hay flecks in her strawberry blonde hair. The stallion calmed at the sound of her voice. " Tisk tisk, Smokey." The girl said and extended her hand towards that huge beast with the gnashing teeth. She had a mint and he took it from her like a puppy takes a treat.

" Excuse me?", Tempe said to the girl. " Is this your horse?"

The girl looked at her and Tempe noticed her very clear green eyes with a purpling bruise on her cheek. She was a very pretty girl. " No, this here is my dad's horse. I'm just his groom.", the girl replied nicely, but warily.

" So you are Walter Murphy's daughter?", Brennan asked trying to observe anything else about her. She noticed the girl wore riding britches which gapped in the waist, much like maternity pants would.

" Yes, but like I said I work as the groom.", the girl said, " By the way, you may just want to stay away from the stallions. They're a bit uppity."

" Thanks. Can I ask you if you knew Cesar Ramirez?", Brennan said and the girl immediately paled, glancing around and turning to leave. "No wait…" Tempe said and went to follow her when a thundering noise approached.

Suddenly two huge shadows appeared in the barn hall, clattering of shod hooves obscuring all sound, screams of stallions rolling down the corridor. Temperance couldn't find a place to hide. All of a sudden 1500 pounds of horseflesh crashed into her and threw her up against the stall doors. A flash of light, a clap of what she thought was thunder and then blessed blackness.

Booth got a call on his cell phone just as he was going to question Murphy, " Booth?" he paused listening intently, " I'll be right there." Dammit, Bones, he cursed in his head as he hopped into a squad car bound for the ER, lights and siren blazing.

Brennan was admitted for observation, and Booth strode angrily towards her room, thinking violent thoughts but the tenderness and protectiveness he always had felt for her competing for space. She was asleep, both eyes bruised looking like some gothic eye shadow, her hair flowing over the pillow to her shoulders. Through the top of the hospital gown, he could see more bruises. Booth stepped forward, hand slightly extended to touch her, when a clearing throat caught his attention, " Mr. Booth?"

Seeley turned around, "Yes?", It was the attending physician.

"Mr. Booth, your friend here is quite lucky to be alive. We admitted her for observation of her concussion. She was crushed against some stall doors by two runaway racehorses. She has some bruised ribs and a laceration or two on her legs, but it's her head I'm concerned about. CT scans and MRI show nothing wrong, but we just want to be safe.", he finished.

Dammit Bones, hard headed woman, Booth thought to himself,." Thank you doctor. Will she wake soon?"

" Probably not. We had to sedate her for the MRI. It may be an hour or so.", he replied and then when seeing Seeley had no more questions, turned to go.

Booth walked into her room. There only was one monitor, a cardiac one, but the beeper was off. Her IV pole hung to one side and slaked her thirst as she slept. He pulled up a chair and sat, watching her breathe peaceably.

He wanted to shake her, yell at her that they are no good apart, and only work well together and, of course he loved her. But wait, he thought bitterly, I'm not supposed to love her. Another quiet moment passed and a light dawned in his head… this is what she was talking about. Walk a mile in my shoes, he said to himself and the dawn of understanding bloomed in his consciousness. Maybe there was a way to save this, him, her and solve a case in the process. "Bones, I'm going to the station. You sleep this off. I'll be back." He smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. She stirred slightly and rested again. He rose and looked back one more time before exiting the hospital.

Booth drove back to the police station where they were about to let Murphy go. " Not so fast.", Booth said darkly and motioned both Walter and his lawyer into the interrogation room.

After everyone took a seat Walter spoke up, " Where's your little tart friend?" Seeley set his jaw and resisted the urge to leap across the table at him.

The lawyer interrupted him, " Walter, this is not the time for that kind of talk." Murphy rolled his eyes in contempt.

" Mr. Murphy, we have a subpoena for the horse shoes from your stable. We also need to look into your veterinarian and medications you have given your horses.", Seeley produced the papers and slid them across the table. The lawyer picked them up, just glancing at them.

Murphy reached into the pocket of his chambray shirt, the same kind he wore the other day when he bruised Seeley, and Booth felt the urge to reach for his gun. A horseshoe came flicking out from the pocket, landing with a loud PING and slid across the table. " If you're looking for the racing shoes, this is the only one left. The farrier had all the others destroyed. He is very protective of his patents and exclusive shoes.", Murphy sneared at Booth. Seeley glanced at it and then put into an evidence bag.

" Do you have an alibi for your location two weeks ago?", Booth asked him picking up his pen to take notes.

" I was in Lexington at my farm prepping Smokey for the race.", Walter replied sullenly.

" Anyone there to back you up on that?", Booth replied jotting this down.

" My co-owner, Mitch Farris.", Walter grumbled and then told him the phone number of the farm.

" Do you have any other employees who may have been here prior to the Derby?", Booth asked.

" My jackass jockey, Cesar. He's not answering questions right now.", Murphy said. " Are we finished here?"

Seeley looked at him across the table and looked for any trace of falsehood. All he could find was a raging fire of malice.

" Yes Mr. Murphy, we are done. I suggest you don't go anywhere for a while, however.", Booth replied standing.

Murphy shot up, towering over Booth and sputtered," But I have races at Keenland to get ready for! This is my livelihood, not a hobby."

The lawyer put a hand on Murphy's forearm, " He can only hold you here if he as probable cause. That's three days. It's Wednesday."

" Then we'll have to clear all this up by Friday, eh?", Booth sarcastically replied and walked out.

Booth made that farm phone call on the way back to the hospital to see if Brennan was awake. It turns out that several people could verify that Walter Murphy was indeed in Lexington within the appropriate time frame of the murder. Booth was stumped. He had to put a more neutral expression when he got to Tempe's room, but then had to remember they were on uncertain personal terms.

Brennan sat up in her bed looking sore and beat. She was sipping vegetable soup for lunch. Booth hungrily eyed the pudding and jello also on the hospital tray. " Hey Bones…", he began conversationally pulling up a chair.

She looked up at him, eyes rimmed by bruises. Booth had seen corpses that looked like that and he blinked to rid himself of the memory.

" What have you been up to?", she replied softly, her bruised ribs making breathing, let alone talking difficult.

" How are you feeling? How did this happen?" he asked, leaning forward, hand hanging between his knees.

" I… I don't know. I was talking to a girl, Murphy's daughter I think… my memory is still fuzzy. " she began, squinting as the tried to remember, " And then two horses got loose."

Booth picked up on that bit, " Murphy has a daughter?" He straightened up. Where did she fit in? " How old was she?"

" I think… I'm not sure.. teens?", Brennan replied. The sedatives and pain killers were still muddling her memories.

Booth could see she was still not feeling well and was sure the hospital would not let her go willingly unless he forced it. That may not be for the best being that her head got knocked around… that pretty head full of brains and intellect he trailed off in his thoughts. " Let me touch base with the squints and run over to the track. I have some other folks I want to talk to. You gonna be ok?", he asked in a more tender tone than he meant to.

Brennan looked up at him as he stood and suddenly her eyes sharpened, hard and bright, no drugs now, and said, " Now do you know how I feel about you?"

Booth caught his breath, not expecting this sudden change, " I… I think I am."

The medication veiled her eyes again and she smiled a semi-sleepy smile at him, " Good.. .now run along on you errands." She pushed her tray away and snuggled down into her covers, eyelids drooping. Seeley smiled back at her when her eyes closed. What a lady, he thought and turned to go.

"Hodgens?", Booth said on his cell as he stepped out into the sun.

" I'm here, dude." Hodgens replied and then caught himself, "… Booth."

" Just to let you know, Bones is laid up in the hospital.", Booth began when Angela cried out.

"What happened?!", she exclaimed. Booth pulled his phone away from his ear and gave it a look. He should know better than to think that Hodgens and Angela were apart.

" I'll fill in later. She's ok. But look, I only have two days to crack and close this case. I am sending you a horseshoe. It's the only one left so don't mess it up. Compare it to the print on our victim and let me know what you find. Any updates from your end?", Booth replied quickly getting into his car.

" No, nothing outstanding from the particulates and bugs." Hodgens said.

" Give Tempe a hug for me Booth!", Angela pleaded.

" Will do. See ya.", Seeley replied and hung up.

Churchill has opened to the public by this time and the afternoon crowds had filled in looking over the prospects for the afternoon. A little domestic stimulus plan for their bank accounts perhaps. Booth ignored this and made a bee line for the backside. Horses were calling out to each other, some kicking their stalls eager for the run. Men ferried animals to and fro each barn, some warming up, some cool down walkers. Owners, vets, jockeys looking over animals before the races. Barn 24 was no exception. A young girl was there looking at a huge grey thoroughbred in cross ties brushing his coat. She had her back to him, but the horse whickered a warning, ears forward for now. The girl stood quickly and turned. To Booth she may have been maybe 15 or so, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, riding britches which seemed too big on her skinny frame and an oversized sweatshirt covered her, although it was at least 80 degrees outside. " Can… can I help you?" she said stuttering and pressing herself against the horse as if he were a guard dog.

Booth stepped up and the horse laid his ears back, lip curling showing those ferocious teeth. Booth put a hand up to signal peace, but the horse stepped forward and snapped his jaws with an angry click. Booth froze. Now Booth understood what Cam had said about feeding the victim to the horses! Not carnivorous my foot, he thought. " My name is Seeley. Seeley Booth. Are you Walter Murphy's daughter?", he said kindly but very aware of how close he was to the horse.

The girl kept her position next to the horse and looked Seeley up and down with street wise eyes before answering, " What business is it of yours?"

Booth decided that this was no normal teenager, " I'm investigating Cesar's death."

The girls eyes got wide for a brief moment of weakness, and then she blinked, looking left and right. Seeley understood her body language perfectly: she was looking to make a dash for it. The horse uttered a low dominant whickering noise as if he too knew what she was going to try to do. She raised a hand to his nose and the animal breathed in and out deeply as if his breath would calm her fluttering heart. " Is your dad here?", Seeley asked.

" No. He rarely is. ", a touch of heat colored her voice. She relaxed her posture a little, but not much.

" Can I ask you about Cesar?", Booth continued.

" Sure… I didn't know him well.", she said flippantly and actually turned her back to Booth. Running her hand down the front leg of the horse, he picked up his foot. She took out a hoof pick and began to clean the frog of the hoof. Seeley was presented with the horses head and the girls bottom, which he noted was not that unattractive. Wheels began to turn in his head.

" Where were you two weeks before Derby?", Booth questioned, but not approaching her because of her equine sentry.

" I was here.", she replied flatly.

" With whom?", Booth was intrigued.

" Cesar.", she said and then gasped doubling over to her knees.

Booth went towards her to help her, forgetting the terrifying horse. Smokey did nothing but stand carefully to one side apparently knowing that he was not able to help here. She leaned onto one side, pulling her knees up to her chest moaning softly. Booth noticed she was bleeding from between her legs. A dark mood quickly infiltrated Booth. He absolutely despised crimes against children.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and called an ambulance. "There, there… here, roll over.", he moved her over so she was propped up with a hay bale. She was pale and sweating. " Tell me what happened. I want to help you."

She swallowed a few times, holding back tears, " My dad… my my dad… Oh my God…."

" No, don't worry about him. Tell me what happened to you.", Booth soothed.

" Cesar… he said he loved me. He… he was my first. I was pregnant. Dad flipped out. He's completely racist.", she looked up at him. Booth could hear sirens approaching. " Dad said he'd kill Cesar. Cesar laughed it off and went drinking." The EMT's came and asked what was the trouble. As they treated her, Booth asked to ride along. There was barely enough room.

" When were you due?", Booth asked before the EMT could.

" Two weeks ago.", she replied looking ashamed.

" No, don't feel afraid. Someone hurt you, and I'm going to help.", Booth promised.

At the hospital, they determined that she had given birth two weeks ago, and that there was remaining tissue still inside her uterus causing her to have a rampant infection. Walter Murphy was called and came rolling in like a thunderstorm. Booth stood to one side of the bed, vowing to himself that if Murphy laid a hand on her, he'd arrest him right there. " Why are you here?", Walter bellowed.

" I am just doing my duty, assisting those in need.", Booth replied with ice.

" Where is it? Where is the little bastard?", Murphy yelled at his daughter. She cringed, raising her hands in front of her face.

" Hey!", Booth stepped between them, " Back off."

"Back off?! I'm her father and I want to know where that baby is!", Murphy raged on, veins popping out in his neck.

" The baby is dead.", the tiny voice of his daughter interrupted.

Both men turned to look at her, so small in the bed. " Whadda mean?", her father blustered.

" The baby… I had her already.", the girl sobbed. " Cesar was there when I went into labor at the barn… he just laughed at me and called me names. I… I was looking for something for the pain in the med box. He kept mocking me over and over again. I asked him for help! I Grabbed a shot and stabbed him in the chest. He made me so mad! And I hurt!", she was openly crying now. Her father looked down at her and he had softened incredibly. He bent down to hug his poor child as she cried, " Smokey was there and he kicked him across the hall from his stall. I don't know if that killed him or the Lasix."

Booth felt like the weight of a million tons upon his shoulders. He couldn't stand up straight, " Mr. Murphy, I need to talk to you.", he said and motioned him out the door. Walter patted his daughter on the head and stepped out. " Sir, you realize your daughter just confessed to double murder?"

" No, that jackass deserved to die. The baby… you can't prove it was a live birth.", Murphy tensed up again.

" Mr. Murphy, you and your daughter have been through a tremendous amount. I want you to know that I'll make sure the local prosecutor works with you to see that justice to both of you is done. But I have to do this. It's the law.", Booth said seriously.

Walter hung his head and seemed to shrink with the weight of his burden, " Yes."

" Thank you for understanding.", Booth replied and finished his business.

The sun set over Louisville, large, red and resplendent in the western sky. Temperance had been allowed to check out the hospital with the stern warning to get some rest and not get run over by horses anymore. Booth gathered her things and helped her out from the building. Brennan said she was feeling well enough for a drink so they jumped a cab to the Galt House. The top floor featured a rotating bar and a cocktail seemed to be just the thing to cap the week off. Booth filled Brennan in on the results of the case and she looked terribly sad about the outcome but pleased that justice had been served. " It was just like a Trifecta… Win, place and show.", Booth said.

"No winners here.", she replied quietly. Her eyes were still colored by her collision with the horses and it gave her a haunted look. They were still and quiet for a moment, sipping their drinks.

Booth wondered if this would be a good time to bring up their personal situation. " Bones, do you think we work well together?", he queried.

" Of course. We are very complimentary.", she said comfortably, swirling her cosmopolitan in her hand.

" We're a good pair?", he pressed.

Brennan leveled a serious look at him, " Why are you asking? What are you getting at?"

" You said that you are afraid for me. You are not comfortable getting close to someone you could loose.", he said meeting her gaze, " I can understand that now after this case. It is clear as day." Temperance put down her drink and folded her arms across her chest. Booth realized he was up against her logic. He need to appeal to her softer side. " I'm going to be totally frank with you, Bones. I can no longer do this job…." Her eyes widened, mouth parted slightly to raise a complaint. Booth held up a hand to her to let him finish, " with out you, Temperance. I just can't do this any more without you with me."

Tempe closed her mouth and blushed with shock. It was rare when he called her personally by her first name. " Do you forgive me?", he asked.

" For what?", she said with a smile.

" For wanting to never let you leave me?", Booth replied.

" Only if you forgive me.", Brennan replied.

" For?", Booth grinned.

" For putting up with your ridiculousness.", Brennan replied and laughed, which made her bruises hurt. Booth opened then shut his mouth quickly because he couldn't think of any thing snappy to say.

" Hey, let's get outta here.", he finally managed.

" Ok, but I get to unlock the door tonight.", Tempe replied.

Booth thought that could have possibilities….

The End…

22


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